


The Broken Half

by TooCreative4Life



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Break Up, Clone Roy Harper - Freeform, Clone!Roy, Disappearing, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional pain, Established Relationship, F/M, Heartache, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Leaving in the night, Men Crying, Mild Blood, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant, Post-Season/Series 01, Rain, Relationship(s), Roy Harper is an idiot, Running Away, Sad, Tears, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is the best way, Through the window, Vanishing into the night, cuts and scrapes, small injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooCreative4Life/pseuds/TooCreative4Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Harper was hit hard when he found he was just a clone. The thought of him having stolen the real Speedy's life haunted him and made him turn his back on everything he had. At least until a certain green archer decided she had had enough and pounded some sense back into his thick skull. </p><p>Still Roy doesn't think he's good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Broken Half

Rain pattered gently down the window, droplets dripping from the sky. However, despite the softness of the drizzle, the wetness accompanying it still soaked through a young red-head’s attire. His knees were bent and a hand stretched to the floor as he kneeled on wet metal, ignoring the way the grating bit into his legs through the soaking suit. Goosebumps were prickling to life on his exposed skin. Blank blue eyes starred at the water-beaded surface of the window. Sadness beyond that of the city clung to him, sticking to his hair and skin, crawling into his eyes as if filling up a jug of water; a jug that spilled over as he shook his head sharply and shut his eyes. 

A growl rose in his throat as an arm came up and laid itself across the top of his knee, fist grasping the air tightly, as he would his bow when stringing an arrow. His sorrowed cry split the air, though easily confused with the howling wind. Tears began to filter slowly down red cheeks, mixing with the rain. Self-loathing and regret echoed, hidden, in the tone of anger that carried to deaf and sleeping ears. 

Pressure building within his core, turning to a storm similar to the one over Gotham, Roy lifted his free hand and brought it down on the metal, feeling the dulled serrated edges try to tear at the semi-soft skin. With a sudden ferocity he reserved for criminals Roy began pounding his hand on the grating beneath his boots. Blood weeped from the angry gashes on his hand. He deserved to bleed. Hell, sometimes he thought he deserved to _die_ for steeling the Real Roy Harper's life for so many years. Half-vicious snarls tore from his lips as the lost hero brought his hand to his face and wiped away the tears, trailing red across his face and mixing it with salty tears. 

The pain was only a fleeting annoyance to the archer as he forced his eyes to focus on the scene beyond the window. A soft glow shone around the room, giving a gentle look to the messy abode. Roy leaned forward, placing his non-injured hand on the glass as a hollow sob left his lips. His eyes squinted shut, trying to block the pain but it was impossible. His heart was too attached to the vietnamese girl laying in that little apartment, and so was his head. He had come to depend on her for everything, and yet all he could do was hurt her. 

His body clenched, stiffening as he thought of the needles he had hidden, the time that he had spent trying to forget everything in his life… he hadn’t had a reason to remember it before she came barreling into it. Artemis was the best thing Roy would ever find, better than drugs or drink he would ever find… yet all he did was hurt her. Fight after fight he just kept hurting the green archer, somehow finding new ways to rip at her, tear her down…

 

A feral snarl erupted from Roy as he fought the urge to punch the glass. He did not want to wake her. He had to leave without letting her know he was, because otherwise she would make him stay. He could easily imagine how fiercely she'd fight to make him stay, telling him that he was an idiot for not seeing how much she loved him, needed him too. But he did see. Roy noticed how when they were away on long missions she'd take one of his pillows, how she'd go calling everyone on the team if he forgot to message her right after a mission, or how she'd stitch up a bloody finger on him before she let him near any injury on her. He was her first priority, always, and he could never guarantee that she would always be his.  

He would leave her Gotham, because there was no way that he could have someone like her. She was an angel, and in comparison he was the devil. He knew her story, everything about it, but that made him seem even worse when he looked at them both. As a child Roy had had an easier life, and now he was the worse of them both. He stayed squatting as he looked in through that dirty old window at the blonde angel who had saved his life. He sighed as he looked at the track marks on his arm. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he stood up suddenly and jerked his body roughly. 

He was an idiot and a horrible friend, and an even worse boyfriend. He had to leave before he got her into more trouble than he already had. The redhead turned away from the glass, rotating on his heels before standing. They had been working as a team in Gotham, and he decided that it was time to leave her before he screwed up her life for good. 

_This is the easiest way_ , he mused as he reached down and swung his bags over his shoulders with a sigh.

He shifted the load, rearranging the duffle bag and bow’s case on his back. Roy walked to the edge of the fire escape and began the trek down the stairs. It took longer than he thought it would, having to take each step one by one due to rain. His hand ached, blood still dripping from the cuts, and his heart hurt more each step. It grew heavy in his chest, turning to stone every time he furthered himself from the apartment. In an effort to push the hurt away, he leapt off the last level of the escape, landing in a puddle with loud splash. 

He halted, looking up at the only lit window. The archer would never admit to anyone, but he could have sworn he heard something break as he forced himself to turn away. Gravel skidded over the slick ground as he took off, running into the darkest streets of Gotham, heading to the docks and the endless possibilities for a future. He would disappear, leap into the night and just vanish like they did every night together. 

Only now he would be alone. Forever and always he would be alone.


End file.
